


And Rest You With My Love

by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Hope, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Motherhood, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:35:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: She was scarcely breathing, begging for the maester to save her daughter’s life and praying, praying to the Old Gods and the New alike.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [littleloonlost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleloonlost/gifts).



Darkness veiled her eyes. It had taken hold of her long before night had fallen, long before the candles within her chamber had been extinguished, would circle her until she surrendered, until… She was scarcely breathing, scarcely capable of lifting her head, so weak now, so weary, bereft of any strength when merely minutes before she had been screaming, begging for the maester to save her daughter’s life and praying, praying to the Old Gods and the New alike. If only the Seven were to be merciful… If only they would grant Maester Luwin to…

Never before had she screamed, never before had Catelyn Stark allowed herself to utter such cries of terror, never before had she lost composure in such a way, never before… Even when the agony had nearly overwhelmed her, even when she had nearly drowned in the pain of giving life to her elder children, never before had she allowed herself to scream…

But now? Why should she care, why should she care at all for anything but her daughter, little Arya who would be torn from her so cruelly, so mercilessly, if the maester weren’t to act quickly? Why should anything matter but the child she would refuse to lose without a battle, why should she care, why should she in this moment even care for her own life when so gladly she would offer herself to the Stranger in exchange for the babe, when already she began to fade away without being granted to hold her, to even look at her? To bid her farewell before… No.

Once more she screamed, screamed at the mere thought of losing the girl she had come to love so beyond words during the past months, the babe she had felt grow within her, whose heart had beaten so close to her own, the girl she desired nothing more to hold within her arms, to… Her child… Ned’s child…

Ned… She could not see him, could not find her Ned within her chamber… Hadn’t he held her hand before? Hadn’t he rushed to her side in the moment he had been called, in the moment Maester Luwin had realised that…? Ned… If only he were here, if only he were still by her side, if only she could bid her farewell to him, if only… Ned… Her Ned… He would lose his daughter, the children would never know their sister, would not understand… They were so young, they would not…

She, too, was lost. Catelyn, too, was lost, incapable of keeping her body from trembling, drifting into emptiness more and more with every minute passing yet she would refuse the maester’s care as Arya… Arya… Only Arya mattered… But still she swallowed the liquid she was instilled by a strong yet gentle hand, a hand that felt so much like Ned’s… Still, she swallowed, for a moment so foolishly, so selfishly hoping that it would bring her relief. The milk of the poppy, perhaps, perhaps truly she… Perhaps…

How happy they had been when Catelyn had realised that once more she was with child, how happy they both had been… Never would she forget the smile that had brightened Ned’s solemn face the night she had told him, never would she forget the tenderness of his touch, never would she forget his laugh…

The child would look like him. They both had known, had sensed that the child, would bear his features, they both had known…Arya… Ned had chosen the name, had been so certain that it would be a girl, laughed even at the imagination… He had been so certain, had been so certain and not been mistaken… But now? Now, would they ever be able to look at the infant, would she ever be able to hold her daughter within her arms as she had held her elder children, or would she be torn from her to spare her the worst?

Arya… She was a fighter, had been a fighter from the first moment on, forcing Catelyn to her bed for nearly three fortnights, and battling to be granted the chance to live, to one day see her home, her family… She had. She had lived, Arya had lived within her womb, had grown and defied the maester’s concerns… She had lived yet taken the strength from her mother, who had given it to her so gladly, growing weaker with every day passing until… They all had feared what Catelyn dared not fear, had feared for mother and daughter’s life both, yet Arya had lived… And she would live now, she would… She needed to… She had lived… She _would_ live… And if Catelyn were to lose her life in her daughter’s stead… It would not matter. It would not matter at all.

“The babe is all right, my lady. Once dawn breaks all danger shall be averted.”

The sudden sound of Maester Luwin’s voice caused her to wince, to moan in quiet agony as tears began to roll down her cheeks, tears of pain, tears of such despair… It seemed impossible for her to process his words as still, still she would attempt to turn her head, still she would do nothing but whisper her daughter’s name as though it were a prayer, a desperate prayer to the Mother to watch over her child if she found herself incapable, if she…

Arya…

She could feel her then, could feel the babe against her bosom, breathing, and did not know whether she was truly there, whether she was dreaming, could feel her, forced herself to open her eyes, no matter how heavy her lids, forced herself to raise her arms, no matter how weak, and held her, held her so close…

How beautiful she was… Sweet Arya, how beautiful she was, and how much she resembled Ned, so much unlike Robb, so much unlike Sansa… How much she resembled Ned… She smiled, Catelyn smiled at her, smiled at her daughter with such love and even as she faded she made a vow, vowed what she had vowed twice before, as she would always protect them to the best of her ability, as she would go to Death laughing, if only it meant for them to be safe, if only it meant for them to live… And she was laughing, indeed, as darkness came to claim her truly.


End file.
